


Cinderella, She Seemed so Easy

by Lyra_87



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Costumes, F/M, Fancy Dress, Fluff, Halloween, Masks, Smut, creepiness, fairy tale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 10:56:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1646156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyra_87/pseuds/Lyra_87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Oh, you know, everyone has that one romantic story, where it’s all magical and special and romantic and full of fuzzy lust and butterflies and craziness, so that they can tell their children one day, when they’re old and grey, like that lady in Titanic, who dies in the end. This is yours. This guy could be your Jack."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cinderella, She Seemed so Easy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pixiewayro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixiewayro/gifts).



> Big shoutout to pixiewayro. For being awesome and amazing.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy!

I love the smell of pumpkin that hangs in the air in Starbucks during October. It’s the only good thing about working in the place, other than the free coffees and the people I work with. They’re all nice, in their own way, if you scratch under the surface enough. Even the manager, Karla, is quite nice, as long as you show up on time and do your work with minimum complaining. She’s well aware that I’m only working here to save up money to finally go to college, but as long as I turn up every day and do my work, she doesn’t care that I have no long intention of staying here. Frank, a fellow barista, is one of those people with a dry sense of humour that can come across as him just being an asshole for the sake of it. When you get to know him, though, you realise that he’s actually a nice guy underneath it all. Plus, he likes Star Wars, Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings so I decided that he must be okay if he can appreciate awesomeness. Diane, well she is a different kettle of fish. She is loud, obnoxious, in your face and determined to be best friends with everyone she comes into contact with.  She is a nice girl, but hard to work with, especially if you’re in a foul mood, like I am today. All I want to do is yell at her to shut up, but,of course, I can’t, because of the big ass queue in front of me, full of self righteous customers who would no doubt complain to management if I crack under the pressure of listening to Diane’s incessant chattering while she makes the coffees. Frank had gone on his lunch break, leaving me to suffer her alone. My ears are physically hurting under the strain as I try to block out her voice and pay attention to the customers’ orders.

“Just count to ten and take a deep breath,” I mutter, briefly closing my eyes before I take the next order. The last thing I need is to lose my cool, and my job. I open my eyes, and find myself staring into the most beautiful pair of hazel eyes I’ve ever seen. They’re a golden brown shade of hazel, something I’ve never seen before in my life. The golden colour, which has scattered flecks of green, is further emphasised by a ring of black around the iris. The eyes themselves are framed by long, black eyelashes so long it’s practically criminal that someone should have such naturally long eyelashes. I lose all sense of myself in that moment, shamelessly staring into the hypnotic eyes. I hear a cough coming from behind me, and it is enough to make me realise what I'm doing. My face turns a beetroot shade of red as I take in the person I’ve been staring at, whose face is lit up in egotistical amusement. The cocky smirk on his face reveals a dimple on his left cheek, which I decide is utterly endearing. His complexion is milky pale, pale enough that I can see the blue veins that run underneath the flesh on his neck which is on show as he tilts his head slightly. His hair is black, and, to my very mild disgust, slightly greasy and unkempt. His leather jacket is slightly worn, but it fits him like a glove, like the simple white T-shirt underneath, which is free of any design or writing, but it seems to have had a battle with paint at some stage. The look he gives me makes me want to curl up and die from shame and embarrassment, never mind the quizzical looks from the other five customers that are waiting in line. My mind is completely frazzled, and it takes me the guts of ten seconds to pull myself together and form some kind of coherent sentence.

“What…what can I get you?”

“Just a tall cappuccino to go. Please.”

He hands over a couple of dollar bills before I can tell him the amount. In order to avoid any further awkwardness, I take the money (being careful not to touch him) without any more words and quickly put it through the register. I try my best to avoid touching his hands when I gave him his change, but he seems to make a point of making physical contact, perhaps to see how I'dreact. Would I jump, as though shocked by a jolt of electricity? Or would I be nonplussed and unresponsive? My reaction is neither of those. It’s to turn an even deeper shade of red as my hand shakes like I missed my morning caffeine hit. I’m suddenly very nervous as I notice just how _predatory_ the look he scrutinizes me with is. It feels as though he’s seeing right through me, and making a snap judgement on what it is he sees in the few seconds of contact we have. I catch how his eyes quickly seek out my name tag, and I’m thankful that the sticker had come off a long time ago.

 “Thanks, Sugar.”

The words are spoken almost sweetly, but I detect something darker behind the false politeness. I feel a twinge of fear that all prey must feel when hunted by a predator much larger, faster and more cunning than they are. I swallow nervously, wanting to get this guy away from me as quickly as possible. He takes a couple of gracious steps to my left, where he waits quietly for his coffee. I force myself to focus on the next customer, a woman about my age who orders a skinny decaf latte. I somehow manage to smile at her and wish her a nice day. I try not to notice the strange man that I can still see in my peripheral vision. When he leaves, I finally feel my body relax, it’s been tense and rigid without me being aware of it. Ten minutes later, the queue clears, and I can breathe easy for a calm moment.

“What. The hell. Was that?”

Diane’s high pitched, cheery voice once again penetrates my already overwrought mind, and I restrain myself from flinching. I shrug at her, pretending that I have no idea what she’s talking about.

“C’mon, you totally went all creepy. I’ve never seen you lose your cool like that. You have some emotions after all!”

I continue to ignore her. I know by now that responding would only result in me possibly killing her. I think about everything and nothing in the two minutes that I wait for the next customer to order. I think about anything but that guy.

****

Exactly a week later is the day before Halloween, and I’m stuck in work, yet again, because I’m a slave to the system. I’m making up a skinny latte to go when I hear a squeak of excitement coming from Diane, who’s at the register. I turn around sharply to see what got her attention, to find that the strange guy from last week has come back. Unlike the last time he was here, we’re actually quiet, with only a few customers sitting in. I look at the machine again, hoping that he won’t notice me. I try to block him out of my mind, but the music in the store can’t drown out the conversation between Diane and the strange guy.

“Hi, what can I get you?”

“Tall latte, please.”

“Sitting in or take away?”

“Sitting in.”

“Shit,” I mutter to myself as I feel my body tense up again. I hate how nervous I feel in this guy’s presence. It’s unnerving, and something I’m not used to feeling. It’s only happened once before, when I met my first and only serious boyfriend, Ray.

“Go ahead and take a seat; we’ll call you when it’s ready.” Diane tells him with false sweetness. She comes up behind me, shaking with giddiness.

“Okay, you _have_ to take his drink over to him. You should ask him to go to the Fancy Dress party that Frank is throwing tomorrow night.”

“No, I don’t have to _do_ anything, Diane. I have a few rules in life, one of which is to _never_ ask a guy out, especially one I don’t know. Plus I’m on coffee duty; you bring it to him, since it was _your_ brilliant idea to tell him to sit down. Besides, I’ve already made plans to sit in with my two best friends Ben and Jerry tomorrow night, and I wouldn’t want to let them down.” I know I’m being overly harsh and possibly bitchy, but this guy makes me feel uneasy and excited at the same time, and it’s a lot to take in. I don’t like it, not at all. My plan is to avoid going anywhere near him while he is here.

“Anyway,” I continue, my tone a little more polite and friendly,“it’s not like the guy likes me or anything. In fact, the guy would probably freak out if I went near him.”

“The guy was staring at you when I was talking to him. He came back here because he likes you, trust me!”

I roll my eyes at her.

“Right, because I’m sure he finds creepy girls who stare at him such a turn on.”  The heavy sarcasm in my voice proves that Frank’s humour is rubbing off on me. I finish making his coffee and turn around, only to find he’s still at the counter. He has the same smirk on his face that I saw last week, and I know he had overheard our conversation.

I glare at him, which is a mistake on my part, because it only makes him grin, showing off his freakishly small, but perfectly straight, teeth. His eyes are twinkling, and it only provokes me further. I all but storm over to him, my body language screaming pure agitation at the situation. I put his cup down on the counter for him, nearly slamming it down in my nervousness.  

“Thanks, Sugar.”

He winks at me before walking over to a small table, which has a perfect view of the counter.  He’s cool, calm and collected as he shrugs his black messenger bag off his shoulder and sits down.  I, on the other hand, am a mess as I try to busy myself and ignore his presence, which seems an impossible task. He isn’t the kind of person that can be ignored once you know he is around. I just hope Diane can keep her mouth shut and not embarrass either of us any more than she already has. I finally catch a break, it seems, when he leaves after half an hour, which may as well have been an eternity to me. I ignore the smirk he sends my way as he walks out.

*****

I’m on the coveted ten am to seven pm shift the next day. It’s perfect; you clock in and out without worrying about setting up or closing the shop. I actually have the semblance of a smile on my face when I come in. I love Halloween; to me it means sitting in, watching horror movies, while gorging on junk food. I started this tradition with my ex-boyfriend, and even though we broke up over a year ago, I kept it up. It’s more enjoyable than going out and getting drunk while wearing a slutty costume that barely covers my ass and tits. I still have my Little Red Riding Hood costume hidden in my wardrobe, never to be worn again in my now old age of twenty five. I’m content with watching Monster Squad and eating pizza on my own, thank you very much. Anyway, I’m in the back room putting my belongings away when Diane bursts in the door dramatically, and for a second I’m afraid something terrible has happened.

“Oh, my God!This just arrived for you ten minutes ago! Open it!Open it!”she squeals, her unbearable perkiness switched on to full, and it isn’t even ten yet. She thrusts the brown A4 padded envelope at me as she bounces on her feet in excitement. I’m surprised she didn’t open it herself to find out what’s in it. I take the parcel with vague interest, unable to guess who would send me a parcel, at work no less. I note there isn’t a name on it.

“How do you know it’s for me?” I ask.

“The person that delivered it described you. 'Dark brown hair, blue eyes, medium height, no name on your tag', you need to get a new one, by way. You’re the only one here that fits the description. Now, open it!”

I peel the flap open slowly, slightly hesitant about what I would find inside. My hand clasps around a piece of paper, and a plastic object. I pull both out together, revealing a silver, decorated Masquerade mask. I stare at it for a few seconds, stunned at its beauty, diamantes decorating the edges of the mask. I look at the ticket, curiosity overriding everything else.

A quick scan informs me it’s for a Halloween Ball, a charity one some fancy, recluse artist in the city holds every year for a cancer research. I don’t know much else about the kind of event it is, but the tickets are expensive and much coveted, that much I know. I’m completely baffled by the fact that I hold a possibly expensive mask and a definitely expensive ticket, and burning with curiosity to figure out who would send me something like this.  That being said, I have no intention of entertaining the notion of going. I have no clue as to who could have sent it, and I’m not stupid enough to _actually_ go and possibly meet my death. Diane pulls the ticket out of my grasp and reads it with lightening speed, whilst I shoot her my annoyed and angry expression.

“Oh, my God! I bet it’s Creepy Guy! You _have_ to go! Oh, my God!This is SO romantic. Oh, you can borrow my dress, and I’ll do your make up and everything!You’ll look pretty, for once! It’ll be so much fun! Maybe I can even tag along, see if I can get in! Oh. My. God. Aurora!”

“Diane, I’m not going,” I cut her off before she over exerts herself with the excitement.

I almost flinch in fear from the look she aims at me. Her brown eyes are hooded in an evil way.

“Yes. You. Are.”

“No. I’m. Not. End of story.”

“But this is your _story_!” She whines. “You can’t just say no.” She whined like a child, flapping her hands in frustration at me.

“What do you mean, my _story_?”

“Oh, you know, everyone has that _one_ romantic story, where it’s all magical and special and romantic and full of fuzzy lust and butterflies and craziness, so that they can tell their children one day, when they’re old and grey, like that lady in Titanic, who dies in the end. This is yours. This guy could be your Jack.”

“Diane, we don’t know if it is this guy. It could be some ugly, overweight middle age pervert, like the majority of the people who walk in here and see my name badge.  Even if it was this guy, I don’t know him, and I’ve no interest in getting to know him either,” I lie.

“So what? What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Oh, I don’t know…rape or murder maybe?”

“Oh, please!Who would rape you?” She scoffs, dismissing my claim with a roll of her eyes.

“Hey!”

“Please, you’d scare any rapist or murderer away with the evil glare you give.”

“Thanks for your concern.”

“ _C’mon_ _,_ Aurora. You only live one life, you know!You need to start making the most of it while you’re young, so you have shit to look back on and smile about when you’re old. Staying safely inside the little barrier you’ve built around yourself, won’t stop you from getting old and lonely, and you’ll regret not living life to the full, and taking opportunities.”

I’m stunned by her words, wondering how the hell she suddenly became so insightful and philosophical out of nowhere. It annoys the hell out of me that she’s right. Ever since I broke up with Ray, I’ve shut people out and locked myself away. Not because I’m heartbroken beyond repair, but because I just want to be alone. I’m living a life that's going nowhere. The person who shows up here five days a week isn’t the real me. I used to love adventures. I used to crave doing stupid and terrifying things that would give me palpitations. I never said no to anything, because I enjoyed life.  Now, here I am, turning down something that I would have jumped at the chance to do five years ago.

“C’mon, Aurora!Deep down you _know_ you want to. Go out and have fun for once in your miserable life!”

“I’ll see,” I mumble, doubting my earlier resolve to not go.

That's all she needed to hear before she fucking _squeals_ like a chipmunk on acid and she pulls me into a hug that almost squeezes all the air out of my lungs.

“Yes! I knew it! I can give you my Snow White costume, if you want!”

“Thanks, but I have one at home.”

“Girls, can you get out here please! We’re kinda busy.” Frank calls out to us. Diane had left him on his own, again.

“Shit!” she squeaks before running back out the door to an irate Frank.

I spend the day in a daze. My mind is elsewhere as I continue to debate whether I should go or not. My brain is telling me that it’s a stupid idea. The ticket could be from anyone, and staying inside is a safer option. Somewhere deep in my heart is telling me to do it. What if it is  Creepy Guy? What if it is a chance to have fun with someone, even if it’s only for one night? Heaven knows, I’m in dire need of a good lay after my dry spell. I’m afraid of going, and equally afraid of not going. I wait for another sign to indicate who might have sent the note, but none come. Creepy Guy doesn’t come in, surely that means it’s him?  I mean, nobody else stands out as a possible suspect. Except for the balding old man who comes in every day to stare at me for an hour, but I doubt he would be able to pick out such a beautiful mask. Creepy Guy could, though. Something tells me the guy has a flair for style and fashion. It’s the way he sways his hips when he walks that gives it away. It isn’t quite camp, but the guy has a feminine streak, for certain.

Diane gives me that scary determined glare of hers all day, which makes me paranoid whenever I become vaguely aware of what I’m doing. When she clocks out at six, instead of leaving, she gets a coffee and sits down at one of the vacant tables, eyeballing me the whole hour she waits for me to finish. I’m afraid she's planning something, something along the lines of forcing me to go to the party. Would she kidnap me at gunpoint? Or would she just scream at me until I caved in? Both options are equally terrifying. Diane is loud and in your face, but overall she’s a nice person, until you won’t do whatever it is she wants you to do. I always thought she would make a good manager with her powers of determination and intimidation. That, or working with the Mafia. I’m sure both jobs would be right up her alley. I  hoped that I could manage to escape her when I went out the back to clock out, but, alas, I’m foiled by her stubbornness, when she stalks up behind me the moment I swipe my card. I don’t bother holding in my cuss of shock when I sense her behind me, so close that her breath tickles the back of my neck. When I turn to face her, we’re nose to nose, chest to chest. It’s freaky and puts me on edge, which is a norm if my personal space is invaded.

"Right, here’s the plan. I’m doing your make-up and hair. You _are_ going to the ball,Cinderella, even if I have to drag you there myself!"

For the first time in my life, I’m truly terrified for my safety. Her dark eyes are harsh, unforgiving and,frankly, downright scary. It’s the look I imagine a serial killer wears when they murder their victims. I just nod my head, afraid of doing anything else.

"Great! Let’s go!" She grabs my hand and literally drags me out of the store. She grips my hand so tightly that I can feel the blood cease to circulate to my fingers. I try to wriggle my hand from her iron clasp, but it’s a waste of energy. She won’t let me go until she’s done whatever it is she wants with me. I just hope I would be alive to see tomorrow.

*****

Two hours later, I feel like a living, breathing doll. I’m in my Red Riding Hood outfit, with a red ribbon to match. It suits my dark brown hair perfectly, which is loose and straight as it rests on my shoulders. My eye makeup is minimal, due to the mask I’m going to wear, and my lips are coated in a natural pink colour. Red Riding Hood is the epitome of innocence and virtue, and I have to admit Diane made me look every inch the pure virgin. She’s smug and filled with pride as she watches me study my reflection in the mirror. For the first time in a long time, I feel pretty.

"See, I told you I would make you look half way decent."

I scowl at her reflection, her words denting my ego a little.

"I’m not doing this, Diane," I mutter, pulling at the strings of the red cape that’s hugging my shoulders.

Diane grabs my hands and tears them away from me. Her stern expression is somewhat softened by what I guess is worry, or compassion. It’s in contrast to her barely appropriate,slutty Harley Quinn outfit. She does look good, though, I have to give her that. It makes me feel even more self-conscious about myself. I’m being an idiot, going to this thing under the presumption that someone might want me. Nobody other than Ray has ever shown any kind of interest in me.Why would that suddenly change? Maybe this was a joke set up by Frank, to see if I’m pathetic enough to actually fall for it. It doesn’t seem like something he would do, but you never know.

"Aurora, you look beautiful. It’s Halloween, honey. A night when we let go of our inhibitions, and just be whoever we want to be. Three hundred and sixty four days of the year you hide yourself away, pretending to be someone who doesn’t care. Tonight, just for once, be yourself! Let’s go to this thing, and have fun! Be young and free, like we should be!"

I let out a sigh and bite my lip, full of self-doubt and self-consciousness. I don’t want to be someone who lets their life fly by them anymore, but it’s difficult to suddenly burst out of my bubble.

"Look, let’s just drop by for an hour and see what happens! If you don’t like it, we’ll go to Frank’s party and get hammered." She cajoles me.

"Okay... Okay, fine! Let’s just go now, before I change my mind!"

"Alright.Have you got your cell, wallet and keys?" her tone reminds me of a mother hen, making sure everything is set before we leave.

"Yes, mother."

"I’ll get you for that!" she smacks my arm and giggles, in turn making me giggle. The sound is foreign to me; it’s a jolt to my system as it dawns on me that I haven’t laughed in a long time. At most, I give a little chuckle at some comment Frank makes behind a customer’s back, but it is never a true, heartfelt laugh.

I barely have time to grab my bag before I’m pushed out of my apartment.

Half an hour later, we are at the front of the Mansion where the ball is being hosted. I’m wearing the mask, as a sign that I’m up for whatever game the sender is playing. In a weird way, it makes the costume work better. I’m nervous walking up the steps, hoping that Diane’s plan will work and she will get in too. I don’t know if I can do this alone.In fact, I know I can’t. My cowardice will get the better of me and I’ll refuse to go in. The two bouncers at the door are far from friendly looking, with their black suits, ear monitors and being built like body builders. I doubt Diane’s usual technique of flirting her way into places will work with these guys. It is worth a shot, though, so I walk up to them with confidence while shuffling through my bag for my ticket. Diane mimicks my actions.

"Good evening, Ladies,’ the blond one greets, smiling at us. Maybe they aren’t so mean, after all.

"Evening." I smile, hoping I appear to be more charming than normal as I hand over my ticket. He glances at it without much care, obviously realising it is genuine. He asks my name and checks it off a list. Something we haven’t counted on.

"Oh, shoot! I forgot mine. I left it back home!" Diane’s upset voice reaches my ears. I fight valiantly against my nervous habit of  laughter. The other bouncer is looking at her with narrowed eyes, which I gather is far from a good sign.

"What’s your name?"

"Diane Lane."

"You’re name isn’t on the list, ma’am, and without a ticket, I can’t let you in."

"Please, can you at least ask? I should be on it."

She flutters her eyelashes, and the bouncer responds by rolling his eyes, but none the less he turns from us and speaks into his monitor. We wait silently, my heart dropping with each passing second as I realise the plan isn’t working.

"Alright, you can go on in. Have fun, girls."

And, just like that, we walk in through the large front doors. I’m not sure how she managed to pull it off, but she did. The entire entrance hall is decorated with webs and chandeliers, as well as ghosts, bats and dead men hanging low from the ceiling and a fog covers the scarlet red carpet that lines the floor.  The stairs are completely blocked off to the public, reminding me that it belongs to some hot shot artist. There are typical Halloween screams and ghost sounds playing in the background, making me smile as I soak in the atmosphere.

We follow the sound of the music down a set of stairs, which leads directly into the ball room. Under normal circumstance, you can tell it is an unused room. It’s far too big to be used for anything else other than entertaining a large crowd. Or perhaps art exhibitions, which I gather as I spot paintings hung up on the walls. The room is suitably decorated, though, with webs, spiders, rats, bats and almost every single Halloween related beast or monster lacing the room, along with the same fog that met us in the front entrance. The place is dimly lit, giving it the deserving Halloween glow. There are spider webbed tables lined up against one of the walls, filled with food and drink. There are tables scattered close to the bottom of the room, and along the other walls. The centre of the room has been made into a dance floor, which is full of couples dancing away. It’s a strange sight, seeing Frankensteins dancing with fairy princesses, and vampires with super heroes, but it is what I love most about events like these. The music playing is surprisingly good, a mixture of hard rock and punk, along with a few classics. I look at Diane and grin, knowing that whether I meet the mystery person tonight or not, it is going to be a good night. Her smile matches my own, making me grateful that I listened to her, and that she had come along with me.

"Let’s try the drink that looks like blood! Ten bucks says it's cranberry," she grins at me mischievously.

"You’re on!"

We get ourselves drinks, and to Diane’s chagrin it isn’t cranberry. Whatever it is, it’s good. I take a gentle sip, deliberately trying to drink slowly. The last thing I want is to meet this person, if the chance should arrive, completely drunk. I want to be sober and rational when it happens. Heaven forbid I end up screwing some middle aged pervert. I’d rather my dignity remain intact.

"Okay, so the best way to let this guy know you’re here is to get out on the dance floor, get noticed. Hiding away won’t help us find him. He has to come to you."

"Obviously, seeing as I don’t know who said person is."

She rolls her eyes at me, but otherwise ignores my words. She takes my hand, holding it gently this time, and leads me out into the dance floor. We don’t dance for long, only about two songs, before someone approaches us. I don’t recognise him at all. He’s dressed up as a skeleton, but his light brown hair and glasses are visible and not at all familiar. Without a look in my direction,he smiles at Diane, and bends down to whisper in her ear. I can see her blush at whatever he is saying, a slow smile creeping onto her face. I know what’s going to happen as I watch on with a fascinated kind of horror. She’s going to ditch me. He will ask her to dance, and she will leave me here all alone. Like an idiot. I plead silently with her, my eyes wide and my jaw falling in desperation. I shake my head at her, begging her not to leave me. She gives me an apologetic smile, before leaning in and whispering in my ear.

"Maybe he’s shy and wants you on your own. I’ll come back in fifteen and see if you’re okay."

Then the bitch leaves me. My cheeks burn with anger and indignation at the callous abandonment, and all I want to do is stomp my foot like a petulant child.

"You know, you’re adorable when you’re angry."

The voice, which comes from behind me, is instantly recognisable. My body goes still and rigid for a moment in pure panic, before natural curiosity makes me turn around. His face is partially covered with a mask similar to my own, revealing only his mouth and pale jaw, but his eyes are clearly visible. I find myself getting lost in them for a second time, the golden hazel captivating me as though I’d never seen them before. This time they are ringed with black eyeliner, making the colour pop out even more. His dark hair is slicked back, and in stark contrast to his pale skin. The white shirt he wears is accessorised by a black cape, which matches the trousers he’s wearing. It gives him the look of a sexy, dangerous Vampire. He gazes at me with the same amusement that lit up his eyes the first time I saw him. Underneath my pale makeup, I know my face is bright red with embarrassment under his heated stare. He leans forward suddenly, his lips finding my ear. I can feel his hot breath on the sensitive skin, tickling me and making me shiver in delight at the sensation.

"You look beautiful tonight," his voice is pure silk and raw sexuality. I want him so badly, it almost hurts. I’m hot and bothered, and he hasn’t even touched me. It makes me wonder how it would feel if he actually laid his hands on me, or ran his tongue over my skin. Would it blaze my already heated skin? I doubt anything can make my temperature rise higher, but I’m sure he could give it a good try.

"You don’t look too bad yourself," I manage to say without stuttering, although my voice is far from confident. I am shaking, torn between desire and fear of the unknown. I don’t even know this guy’s name, and he’s doing all sorts of things to my mind and body.

"I’ll take that as your roundabout way of giving me a compliment," his smile doesn’t falter, while I grimace.  He chuckles at what he can see of my expression.

"I’m glad you wore the mask. To be honest, I didn’t think you’d show up." He almost sounds shy, but his eyes and jaw are set with confidence.

"So it _was_ you,"I can’t help the smile that plasters itself on my face. I’m relieved that my fear of some middle age pervert hasn’t come to fruition.

"Did you really doubt it?" he teases.

I shake my head slowly, unable to tear my eyes away from his perfect face.

"There’s something I want to show you,"his voice is full of boyish charm, easing any fear I have about following him.

He takes my hand gently, lacing his fingers with mine in a move that makes my heart skip a beat. Or maybe it’s beating too fast, I can’t be sure. He keeps me close behind him, my front touching his cape clad back while he leads me away from the dance floor. I quickly scan the crowd for Diane, finding her dancing with the skeleton guy. Her eyes meet mine, her smile widening when she takes in my delighted flushed face. She gives me a thumbs up , showing her approval. I know it’s a risk going with him, and instead of it giving me a thrill of fear, I’m delighted. My instincts tell me he won’t murder me, and you can’t rape the willing, so I go along with a thumping heart and a frazzled mind.

He takes me back out to the entrance hall, where the bouncers at the door have their backs turned to us. He nods at me to follow him, walking over to the staircase which is closed off with a rope.

"Should we be going up there?" I ask, afraid of getting caught. The house obviously belongs to someone rich, who would probably throw us out if we’re seen to be nosing around.

"It’s okay, I know the guy who owns the place. Don’t worry about it!" he whispers mischievously, his eyes glittering with mischief.

We race up the staircase before we can be spotted, hiding for a few seconds when we reach the top, giggling and breathless. He holds my hand again, his grip firm and secure. He smiles at me before dragging me along the corridor. He leads me down the hall, which has too many doors to count, stopping when we reach the door at the very bottom. He opens the door and peeks in before tugging me inside. The room is a bedroom, and a large one at that. The room is bigger than my apartment, painted in a warm golden colour, and furnished with matching dark wooden furniture. The bed is the centrepiece of the room, though. It is a four poster bed, like something I imagined in Harry Potter’s dormitory, complete with gold curtains. The sheets are a soft white colour, and perfectly made. The room belongs to a male, judging by the male colognes resting on one of the chests of drawers, and the shirts and jeans I see hanging out from one of the opened drawers.

I suddenly feel nervous. As much as I know I’ll go along with whatever it is he has planned, I can’t deny the slight disappointment I feel at him being so…forward. I suppose I want a bit of seduction, or romance.

"Follow me," he speaks lowly, drawing my attention to a pair of glass doors to the left of the bed.

It’s partially concealed by gold curtains, hence why I hadn’t spotted it at first. Still holding hands, I follow him out onto the balcony. The minute we step outside,I know why he had taken me out here. The view, which is lit up only by the moonlight, is spectacular. I can see the grounds are truly beautiful and well looked after.

"In about ten minutes, there’ll be fireworks going off. It’s always great to watch."

I love listening to his voice. While it isn’t deep, it is certainly masculine, with a hint of a New Jersey drawl. There is something musical about his voice and how he speaks. The words seem to flow with rhythm, and I hold on to every word he speaks.

"I love fireworks. They remind me of my dad when I was growing up. Our neighbours were a pain in the ass who complained if we so much as spoke when we were out in the garden, which pissed my dad off ‘cause he’s not a quiet guy by any stretch of the imagination. He always had to annoy the neighbours, so every year our displays got more creative and louder. One year, he put a firework in their tree, ‘cause he got so pissed off with them complaining about the noise. They tried to sue him for the damage and everything. He still maintains it was worth it." I giggle at the memory of the ensuing conflict between my dad and the neighbours over the damage caused to their property.

"My grandmother used to have a party every year when I was a kid, for the family and a few friends. Halloween was her favourite time of the year, and she always dressed up. Every year, she did the house up like a haunted house, with cobwebs and ghosts and everything else she could get her hands on. It was so fucking awesome. She never had fireworks, though.She complained they were too dangerous, and that we’d somehow catch on fire, so me and my little brother used to sneak out to watch the fireworks across the street, although I think she knew right well what we were doing."

"She sounds like a cool grandmother."

"She was. She taught me everything I know. She was an amazing lady."

I’m not sure how to respond. I don’t know him well enough to give him a meaningful condolence, and I don’t think he’s looking for one. He seems to pick up on my awkwardness, giving me a wide grin as he leans his back against the railing of the balcony, his elbows bearing the brunt of his weight.

"So, I must admit, I’m intrigued that you haven’t even asked me my name yet. Or that you haven’t offered yours."

I can’t help but smile back at him.

"Maybe I don’t want to know your name. Maybe I prefer the mystery. Names are meaningless, anyway. It’s just a way for you to be identified in a crowd. Right now we’re alone, so right now it doesn’t matter." I shrug.

To be honest, I don’t want to put a name to the face/mask, because if I do, it means I would know something about him, something real. Once that happens, I will get attached, and as much as I’m enjoying this adventure, I’m not going to lie to myself about what this really is.

"You really are full of surprises, aren’t you?" he asks,amused.

"I guess I am."

The tension between us is palpable. I want nothing more than to tear the mask off and kiss him right on those thin, perfect lips. I can see his eyes dart to my lips, and I just know he wants the same thing. I want to see what is underneath the mask, and the confident façade. I want to find out what would bring him to his knees, what would make him moan in ecstasy. I want to feel his heart pounding in his chest; I want to hear his breathing go haywire as he takes pleasure in doing whatever it is he wants to do to me. He stands up and grabs my waist, guiding me to him.  His eyes are locked on mine, and we both lose ourselves in the perfect moment. I can see there is more to him than meets the eye. I can see the hidden depths, the longing and passion that lies beneath the surface. I see a reflection of myself in his eyes, and I recognise the other part of me that I didn’t know was missing all along. Impatience and desire takes control of my body.It’s the only explanation why I’m leaning towards him in order to bring our lips together.

I’m interrupted by a loud bang, gatecrashing the moment, and knocking some sense into me. Why the hell am I trying to kiss him like that?  There is no way he won’t think I’m not some desperate chick now. He smiles indulgently at me, his eyes shining in delight. He steps behind me, leaning his chest against my back and wrapping an arm around my waist. With his free hand he points to the sky. What I see, is a magnificent firework display that lights up the night sky. The black is but a background to the ray of bright reds, blues, greens, pinks and purples that splatter themselves against the heavens. It reminds me of the firework display for Bilbo Baggin’s party, and I expect a dragon to come out any second. Of course, we aren’t in the Shire, so it doesn’t happen. It doesn’t make the display any less impressive, though. The guy is a bazilionaire, though, or maybe just a millionaire, so I suppose I shouldn’t expect anything less. Overall, from what I’ve seen, the place is quite impressive, and I’m more than lucky to be here. The tickets are worth more than a week’s salary for me, something I could never afford, yet here I am. I wonder how he managed to get me one, on such short notice.

“How did you manage to get a ticket for me, on such short notice?” The words tumble from my mouth, somehow bypassing my normal ‘things I shouldn’t say’ filter.

“Like I said, I know the guy who owns the place. I pulled a few strings.”

I leave it at that, and pray that I won’t embarrass myself any further. I stay silent for the remainder of the fireworks display, losing myself in the swirl of lights and colours that permeate the sky with shocking intensity. I’m completely absorbed by the fantastic show, until a delicate hand brushes my hair over one shoulder, exposing the side of my neck. My breath hitches when it is quickly followed by a pair of lips softly pressing against the now hypersensitive skin. I have to bite my lip to stop the moan escaping when I feel his teeth lightly graze my skin, biting gently before his tongue soothes the not unpleasant ache. I hold onto the balcony, seriously afraid that my legs will give out. I have never been so turned on in my entire life, and it is completely overwhelming. How is it possible to be so completely _undone_ by a guy who is a stranger? I don’t even know his name, but that doesn’t stop the moan that catches in my throat when his fingers slowly slide up my arm while his lips continue to suck and bite my neck hard enough to leave a mark on the skin. I can’t complain, though; it feels wonderful, and I’m positive that if he continues for long enough I’ll orgasm before we do anything else. Of course, there’s a little voice in the back of my mind, the catholic guilt raising its ugly head to remind me that I don’t know this guy’s name. This is so completely wrong, and crazy, and possibly dangerous, but the hormones raging in my body could not give a shit right now. I focus on the physical sensations harder, like how his lips are soft against my skin, and how he magically finds the perfect balance between pleasure and pain the entire time he kisses and sucks the length of my neck. My brain ceases to function after a while, and all thought leaves my mind. I whine pitifully when he stops, the haze of lust has taken all sense away from me. I probably wouldn’t be so out of control if I hadn’t remained celibate for so long. All the frustration has built up, and I’m ready to unleash it on him full force. I don’t, though, because that would probably be a scary scenario, and I have no idea what I’m capable of if I don’t reel myself in. Time ceases to mean anything, and I couldn’t care less, as long as he keeps doing the amazing thing he’s doing with his mouth.

“Don’t stop!” I groan softly, turning into a complete wanton hussy, but I can’t think straight when all the pheromones in the air are completely turning my common sense and decorum into mush.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” he mutters, before he hitches up the skirt of my dress.

It’s a really cold night, and the first thing my skin registers is the cold air hitting my newly exposed skin. I don’t think about it for too long, though; his hand starts tracing a line over my lace panties, and oh dear sweet Lord, I swear I’m going to faint already. The moan that comes out of my mouth is embarrassing, and anyone overhearing our little escapade would think I was currently filming a porn movie. Hell, for all I know, there could be a hidden camera somewhere, filming my shame, but even that couldn’t make me pull away right now. My knuckles are white from my grip on the balcony, and if I could look at my reflection, I’m sure my face would be flushed pink. My knees actually wobble when his hand bypasses the skimpy material and gently part my lips. His free arm wraps around my waist tightly, holding me in place, while his fingers stroke my clit with amazing skill. His hips press against me, and I can feel he’s already hard, and if I wasn’t so absorbed in my pleasure, I would be impressed by how big he feels. But, as I already stated, my brain is nothing but pure mush, and I can’t focus on anything but just how _amazing_ his fingers are. I stop noticing my moans, and how loud my breathing is, and I sure as hell don’t notice his own heavy breathing.

“Fuck,” his hisses, licking the shell of my ear, which immediately makes my insides tighten so hard, I swear I almost came.

I was so close, just on the precipice of a giant, heart-wrenching, knee-buckling, mind-shattering, heart-stopping, utterly-fucking-amazing orgasm, when the unthinkable happens. I’m left feeling bereft when his hand pulls out of my underwear, and the desire to hit him is immediate and extreme. He spins me around before I can raise my hand, though, and pushes his lips against mine harshly.

“We can’t spoil the fun so soon, can we?” he mutters, his lips tracing my jawline softly.

“Jackass,” I’m too breathless to make it sound like the insult I intended it to be, though. My mind is completely on the fritz, and I doubt even a zombie apocalypse could pull me from the spell I’m under.

“Please,” I beg, screwing my pride and self-respect. There’s no room for it when I’m so close to the edge, and I’m hanging on by a thread. I’m undone, completely and utterly, to the point where it’s just shameful, but I can wait until tomorrow to feel embarrassed about it. Right now, I just need to get off, and the person who got me to this horrible, painfully blissful point is now smirking in complete arrogance and silent victory. I probably just inflated his ego beyond comprehension, and Heaven knows how I’ll ever be able to face him, if he ever comes into my workplace again. Right now, though, none of that matters. I don’t care about the smirk on his handsome, graceful face, or the consequences of what I’m doing.

He relents, though, and with weak knees and delirious thoughts, I follow him back inside the room. It’s a lot warmer inside, and the break from his wonderful hands lets me take a deep breath, and get my frazzled mind back working a little. We’re walking towards the bed, him walking backwards, in order to keep our lips and tongues dancing together. I untie the knot of his cape, eager to get rid of anything that gets in my way. I astound myself with how quickly I unbutton the white shirt covering his torso. His skin is milky pale, and though he’s slim, there’s no muscle definition to see. He’s flawless, though, and I’m not fully conscious of my actions when my mouth presses against his newly exposed collarbone. My hands reach to unbuckle the belt of his trousers; making quick work of it all while I continue to suck every inch of pale flesh I can reach. I pull the obtrusive material down off his hips, along with his boxers, and in a moment of impulsiveness, I push him none too gently onto the bed. Now that I’ve a bit more control of my faculties, I want revenge for how he pushed me so close to the edge, just to leave me hanging for a release. I drop to my knees, and before he can utter a protest, I take the head of his erection in my mouth and hollow my cheeks, sucking gently. The moan that escapes him is the filthiest, most provocative sound I’ve ever heard in my life, and I feel a strange sense of pleasure in causing such a noise to emit from another human being. The thing is, I never enjoyed giving blowjobs. I saw them as nasty, unnecessary and, frankly, I never had much confidence in my technique. They seemed so complicated, and so I avoided them, unless it was a special occasion. Right now, though, I revel in it. His hands are clutching the sheets, and when I lick his length, his hips jerk up and a number of curses leave his gorgeous mouth. I take as much of him as I can, and wrap my hand around the rest of him, fisting him slowly, in time with my mouth moving up and down his length. I keep my eyes focused on his face, watching what I can of his reaction to my ministrations (his mask is still covering his face). He’s completely lost.His eyes are shut tightly, and his mouth is hanging open as he moans and gasps. He’s hard as a rock, and by the time my wrist and tongue start to ache, I can tell he’s close. His hands leave the strangled sheets, fisting my hair with urgency and desperation. I don’t hide my self-satisfied grin when I suddenly stop the generous attention I was paying to his member. His eyes fly open, his pupils fully blown, and almost feral looking.

“We can’t spoil the fun so soon,” I mock, recalling his words from earlier.

“Two can play that game,” he growls.

I’m wrenched from my kneeling position, and pulled onto his lap.

“I think we need to level the playing field a little bit,” he says huskily, and swiftly divulges me off my costume, leaving me in nothing but my mask and panties. Without any kind of warning, he grips my hips, and I find myself lying on my back. He hovers over me, our eyes meeting in a lustful gaze, before he captures my lips and licks my bottom lip. I don’t hesitate to open my mouth, and we both moan when our tongues meet, sliding against each other in a messy, frustrated and ungraceful kiss. His thumb brushes over one of my nipples lightly, and my back arches when his tongue replaces his thumb. He doesn’t stay there for too long, and he kisses a trial from my breast to my panties. His fingers hook around the elastic, and swiftly tug the material down my legs. He pushes my thighs apart, placing open mouth kisses along the inside of my thighs. He deliberately avoids the one place I want him to be, which only heightens my want and frustration. I yank his hair, pulling hard and successfully earning a gasp of pain. Good. Serves the teasing bastard right.

I expect him to go back to teasing me relentlessly, but instead he pulls away completely, and hops off the bed, leaving me confused and dumbfounded. I hear the sound of a drawer opening, and some shuffling, before he reappears. I see a small square foil package in his hand, and I all but scream ‘THANK FUCK’, when he crawls on the bed. He does the awkward necessary business as quickly as possible, but it feels like an eternity is passing me by when he crawls over me. I automatically part my legs, and he places himself inbetween them, aligning himself at my entrance. He looks at me, silently asking for permission. I answer by wrapping my legs around his waist and pulling him into me. We moan simultaneously, and he immediately begins a fast, hard pace. His lips are everywhere; on my lips, my cheeks, my neck; and everything is just a haze of sensation that I hope never ends. My hands trial his back, then grip his hair, before resting themselves on his hips, unable to decide where they want to be. It’s not slow and romantic, but, hell, I’ve never felt such pleasure before. His moans just make the whole experience even more erotic, and it’s impossible to not find it incredibly hot when he’s panting and groaning above me, taking me relentlessly with an expertise that betrays the fact that he’s obviously well practised in the bedroom department. The self-consciousness I normally feel when in such a vulnerable position,doesn’t nag me, maybe because his pleasure is so obvious, even from behind a mask. I’m tethered on the edge of an almighty orgasm from the moment he entered me, and when I finally peak, it’s the most intense experience I have ever had. I’ve had plenty of orgasms before, most of which were nice and gentle, but nothing to really brag about. This one, though, is the definition of earth-shattering. I feel it in every muscle, every nerve, and every inch of skin. My mind stops functioning from the sensory overload, and my ears don’t register the string of curses that come from his mouth when I tighten around him, the muscle clamping him so hard, he comes after no more than a handful of thrusts.

When  I finally come down from my high, he’s completely on top of me, almost crushing me. I’m too drained to push him off, though, and it’s kind of nice to have him so close to me. We stay like that for a while, until he pulls out of me and rolls off of me. Our masks are still in place,somehow, and I’m glad that I have something to cover how red my face probably is right now. I hear a little snapping sound, feel the mattress shift, before he lies beside me. I turn on my side, so we’re face to face, and the moment is just…perfect. There’s no awkwardness, no expectation, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt so relaxed in my entire life. It could be the mask that’s doing it, or it could be the aftermath of the massive orgasm I had, but I just let myself enjoy the moment. The arrogance that had been permanently etched on his face, seems to be gone, replaced with a relaxed smile and bright eyes that shine in the moonlight that’s streaming into the room.

“So, are you really not going to tell me your name?”

I smile, but I have no intention of giving him my name. The night has been perfect as it is, and I don’t want that to change because we ruin the mystery.

“Nope.”

“I bet I can guess it.”

I raise an eyebrow at him. My name is a little on the unusual side; I doubt he will be able to figure it out.

“Three guesses,” I concede, confident that he would never guess it in a million years.

He stares at me for a long time, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

“It’s something unusual, a little bit different,”

I don’t give him any indication that he’s heading in the right direction. He watches me intently, dissecting me.

“Gwen.”

I snort.

“Fuck no.”

“What’s wrong with Gwen?”

“I don’t want to named after a comic book character that dies.”

“Fair point…Aradia?”

My eyes widen a little bit, hating that he wasn’t too far off. He was on the right first letter, at least.

“Okay, something beginning with ‘A’,” he grins.

“No, it’s not,” I lie, but it’s no use. His face is now serious, his eyes more shrewd, and I’m genuinely worried that he’ll figure it out.

“Arianna?”

I let out a sigh of relief.

“You’re out of guesses. You suck at guessing names,” I tease.

“And you’re a terrible gloater.”

He’s sulking a little, and it’s really quite adorable. His lips are in the cutest pout I’ve ever seen.

“And you’re adorable when you’re sulking.”

“Adorable? I’ll show you adorable,” he threatens huskily, before rolling on top of me again.

****

I wake up, and see it’s still dark outside. I’m so calm and comfortable, and warm. I can feel Mystery Guy curled up behind me, his arm slung over my waist loosely. I let myself enjoy the silence for a while, and the nice sheets and soft mattress, and the feel of his warm breath tickling my shoulder blade. The night is over, though; and with that, it’s time for me to leave. I hold my breath and slip out of his hold, without waking him up. I get my costume back on, and I’m surprised that my mask managed to stay on while I was asleep. I’m positive my makeup's a mess, though, so it’s a good thing I have something to cover it up. I stare at his sleeping form, part of me wishing I didn’t have to leave, mixed in with a hint of regret that I didn’t find out his name. I know it’s for the best, though; like Diane said, this would be my story, and maybe, in a few years, it’ll be something I can look back on and smile about. Right now, though, it kind of hurts. I don’t know why it does. Maybe I’m afraid of missing out on something that could be amazing, by leaving. Maybe I’m scared that I’m letting go of something that could be so much more than a one night stand, if I were willing to let it be more than that. I can’t, though. I can’t let myself open up to it. I don’t know him, and it’s better to keep it that way. This way hurts now, but in a little while, it’ll be a memory I can cherish forever. If I stay, there’s a strong possibility that it’ll be ruined and tainted, which is the last thing I want.

So, I walk away.

***

_One Year Later_

“You look wonderful, darling,” Diane purrs, eyeing my costume with a wicked grin.

“Thank you. You look as slutty as always,” I grin.

“Bitch!” she giggles, but she doesn’t deny that her costume is her slutiest yet. She’s dressed up as an Arabian princess, and there’s little left to the imagination. It’s beautiful, though, once you get past how little matieral there is.

I dressed up as Alice this year. My blue dress _is_ a little on the short side, but that doesn’t bother me. My confidence has grown so much in the last year, and it shows. I carry myself a little better; I dress a little better, and I actually smile every once in a while.

“I miss your ass in work,” Diane sighs, not for the first time.

“I’ m part time, Diane. You still see me in the evenings, and every weekend.”

“I know, but it’s not the same. That new girl is a bitch.”

“So am I, and that didn’t bother you,” I remind her, applying my lip gloss.

“You’re a nice bitch. She’s just mean. Why did you have to go back to college?” she whines, and I laugh at her childishness.

“Because it’s about time I did something worthwhile with my life.”

“Serving people coffee is a very worthwhile job. Think of the people we caffeinate every day, who are able to function without committing mass murder, because _we_ gave them their coffee. It’s a public service, and a necessary one at that.”

“True as that may be, I just feel like I’m made for a different path.”

“Whatever. We better get to Frank’s party before he bitches us out.”

“There’s no way this party is gonna beat last year, though,” Diane mutters outside Frank’s house.

“You’re only saying that, ‘cause you got laid.”

“It was an awesome lay, though,” she sighs wistfully.

We walk in through the open front door, where the party is in full swing. We quickly find Frank, who is already wasted, and barely able to stand. He gives us both a big hug, happy to see us, or so he slurs, and waves us in the direction of the booze. The atmosphere is great, the house smells of sweat and alcohol, and even though I didn’t count on it, I’m actually having a good time, when a pair of arms wrap around me. I turn around, not doubting who it was.

“Mad Hatter, what are you doing, leaving your tea party?” I grin, feeling the butterflies I also felt when he was around.

“Well, I could hardly leave Alice to fend for herself, now, could I?”

He’s dressed in a top hat, his eyeliner plastered on, and his costume is exactly like the Mad Hatter from ‘Once Upon a Time”. He looks drop dead gorgeous, as always, and my heart skips a beat when his lips meet mine in a sweet kiss. He hadn’t changed in the year I’d known him, not physically, anyway. His hair is still that little bit too long, his eyes are still as hypnotic as ever, and his smirk never lost that arrogant edge. Only thing that has changed,is that I now know his name. And what he does for a living. And, I'm kind of in love with him.

“You left your party for me?”

“Ugh, I’m just the rich artist who hosts the thing. Nobody will miss me.”

“But you’re Gerard Way. Who wouldn’t miss you at the party?”

“They didn’t miss me last year, when I was screwing your brains out.”

“Ugh, you guys are disgusting,” Diane mutters, walking away from us and our PDA.

“That never gets old,” I giggle.

“It’s her fault, anyway. She’s the one who gave me your number when I came looking for you.”

“And my name. She brought this on herself.”

“You know, Aurora was going to be my next guess.”

“Liar.”

“No, honest. You have a princess look about you.”

I raise an eyebrow at him, but his grin doesn’t falter.

“Whatever. You know, I still have that mask somewhere.”

“Really?” he asks, a seductive grin edge to his tone, and I know he’s thinking exactly what I’m thinking.

“You think we can break back into the mansion without anyone noticing?”

“It’s hardly breaking in when I own it. We can pretend, though.”

“You were more fun when you were just Mystery Guy,” I glare at him.

“But you’re still adorable when you’re angry.”

“And lucky for you, you’re still devilishly handsome.”

He kisses me again, and this time it’s a little less sweet and gentle. It’s the kind of kiss that comes from knowing someone, from loving someone more than you love yourself. It’s the kind of kiss that reminds me that I almost missed out on this, and makes me grateful that he came back to the coffee shop to find me.

“C’mon, let’s go, before we miss the fireworks!”

His arms leave my waist, and he grabs my hand, leading me back to where our story really began. I suppose Diane had been right; that night had been my story.

It just wasn't over yet.


End file.
